Dear Fellow Traveler
by illuminatachime
Summary: One-shot, maybe? Spencer gets bored at a party and wanders into the nearby neighborhood, and more-or-less commits a B&E into a certain someone's apartment. This fic is named after the song 'Dear Fellow Traveler' by Sea Wolf. May or may not continue this, so for now it's set as 'in progress.'


_You spoke my language, and touched my limbs. _-'Dear Fellow Traveler' by Sea Wolf

* * *

It was quiet in his apartment, dark too. Spencer opened the door just as much as she could slip through, then closed it. Her feet squished into the carpet – soft, but not _plushy_ – and she set her shoes down across the room, by the windows. They were dark red suede pumps; she'd worn them to this night's party and her feet wanted freedom. Curling her toes into the carpet, Spencer blinked, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of his place; the moonlight shone through his windows, but that didn't mean it wasn't hard to see. Spencer could _just_ make out the little marble counter that began his kitchen. Lips curling upward in a wry smile, she tiptoed her way over to his sofa – she knew from her last time here (which was also her first) that it was dark green and very, very comfy.

She wore a navy blue sleeveless dress, with a black ribbon tied in a bow as a belt. There was a black tuxedo blazer over that, but it didn't extinguish the fact that she was freezing. Having wandered away from Aria, Hanna, and Emily at the party close by, Spencer felt bored; she knew that Wren lived near the neighborhood, and thus she'd decided to take a stroll.

_Is he home?_ she wondered briefly, and then became occupied with staring at his massive book collection. She remembered when they'd come here together just a little; she'd been _pissed, snockered, drunk –_ he'd told her himself. But she'd told him that one of his books was misplaced, and had been pleased when he showed concern.

Spencer thought she might turn the lights on, but she wasn't sure whether he was home or not. She'd wanted to find shelter from the cold, breezy night air – at least that's what she'd told herself as her feet, of their own accord, seemed to carry her towards his home – and she hadn't called before coming. _Technically this is B&E, _she thought with a smirk._ But _he's_ the one who left his front door unlocked._

Leaning back against the cushiony sofa, she allowed herself to doze off a little. It was slightly chilly in his apartment as well, so Spencer drew her legs up beside her and lay down, grabbing the blanket that Wren had conveniently placed over the top of his sofa.

Smiling again as the pillowy goodness welcomed her body, Spencer's eyes fluttered closed. She was amazed that she could rest like this when her heartbeat was thrumming so hard that she could feel it against the seat cushions, but realized that it must be because of the slight traces of alcohol in her system. She felt heavy but she was sober, not drunk like she was the last time she was here.

It must've been about an hour before he showed up; it was midnight when he arrived home. Her eyes flew open when she heard him turning the key in the lock – she was afraid to sit up as she heard him shut the door, so she stayed where she was, pulling the blanket up over her head. She knew he was probably alone, she knew he probably wouldn't be angry with her for entering his home; yet some part of her was still worried.

Wren hummed a little as he flipped on the lights near his front door, and Spencer waited quietly on his sofa as his footsteps sounded closer and closer towards the kitchen. He turned on the lights in there, too, but managed not to notice her. _It must be because I'm under this blanket,_ she thought as her heartbeat drummed even faster.

Speaking of being under the blanket, Spencer was getting awfully warm. Refusing to sit up and give herself away, she hoped that Wren would go into the other room, his bedroom, soon, so that she could escape without being caught. _I sound like a criminal,_ she thought to herself. It became very quiet, and when Spencer was sure that he'd gone into his bedroom, she decided to try and escape. Keeping caution in mind, she shifted ever-so-slightly underneath the blanket, which was woolen and itchy. Peeking outward, Spencer almost had a heart attack.

Wren's face was inches from her own, and he was wearing a sly grin. "Spencer," he reprimanded, even though his smile told her that he'd expected it was her. He assumed a lecturing pose even while he was leaning down, raising an eyebrow as he waited for the flurry of excuses that would soon flood from Spencer's lips.

"Wren?" she squeaked, feeling childish as she looked fearfully up at him, clutching his blanket closer to her nose.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked, still with the chastising tone. "_I_ live here. You know that."

Spencer nodded shamefully, her eyes focusing on Wren's nose. The only word that came to mind was _sinful_ as her eyes made their way up to meet his, then down past his nose to his elegant, curvy lips, which were still curled into his wry smile. "I do know that," she whispered, hoping that he didn't notice how she drew the blanket up further, hiding herself – _or_ how the temperature of the room seemed to go up one hundred degrees.

He stood erect, looking down at her from a greater distance, and Spencer _felt_ the absence of his body heat. Remaining calm, she listened woefully as he asked her, "Would you like to tell me what you're doing here? In my, er, apartment?" Shuffling in his sock feet over to the side of the sofa that _her_ feet were on, he picked up her legs and sat down, replacing them on his lap. Spencer gulped.

_Sinful indeed,_ she hissed internally. _But I'm not the only culprit, not anymore. He's old enough and experienced enough to know what he's doing._ But as she looked into his green-and-brown eyes, with his honest and open expression, Spencer suddenly wasn't so sure that he could be the devil she insisted he was.

Sitting straight up and scooting farther away from him, taking her legs and feet away from him before he could give her a massage, Spencer blurted, "I-I'm sorry! I wasn't sure whether you were home or not and I wasn't _exactly_ sure whether you'd mind but it was cold – that's no excuse – and I'll be going now, I'm sorry, I'm so, _so_ sorry, please don't tell anyone, I'll never do it again, I promise, no, I _swear,_ I'm—"

Her voice broke off as she attempted to stand up, but he caught her by the wrist and guided her back onto the sofa. "I'm not angry, Spencer," he assured her, putting a bracing hand on her arm. "You're welcome here anytime. I just want to know why you're here now."

She blinked, trying to focus on anything but him and his warmth. _I'm already too hot from the blanket,_ she groaned inwardly. They were sitting closer now, like they would if they were pals on a park bench. She couldn't smell liquor on his breath, so she determined that he'd been working a late shift at the hospital.

When she didn't respond, Wren asked, "You said you were – cold?" His eyebrows raised again and she squeezed her eyes shut at how stupid it sounded.

"It's stupid," she admonished. "But it's the truth. Promise." Her heart lifted as his face broke into a grin, eyes crinkling, watching her. _How can you be so good to me, Wren?_

"Well," he said, shrugging. "If you were attempting to steal the blanket, you can take it." Gesturing to said blanket, he smiled slightly as Spencer realized she was still holding it. She forced her fingers to let go of the scratchy thing, one at a time.

"Oh, uh, no thanks?" Her voice was high and uncertain; _I sound like a kid. _"No offense, but it's not exactly my, uh, style." Spencer felt her cheeks turn pink and was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting – Wren had turned on the light in his foyer and also one light in his kitchen – but at the same time, she noticed how the darkness made their awkward conversation seem more intimate._ Not that I mind all that much,_ said her more flirtatious side. _Be honest with yourself, Spence, you wanted to see him._

If her own mind was telling her to be honest with herself, then she was definitely in trouble. Still, she couldn't help herself from studying his profile as he looked towards the windows on the door she'd come through; the sofa faced the back of his apartment, and the moon had shifted so some moonbeams filtered in.

His profile was magnificent, if she did say so herself. His forehead was smooth and elegant; his eyebrows hid his liquid hazel eyes in slight shadows. His nose was long and perfectly shaped, his cheekbones only slightly prominent. His Cupid's bow dipped beautifully, and his lips were _so_ curvy and soft-looking – she pushed away the thought of his mouth on hers, just the few times, and let her eyes explore his jaw, which was masterfully sculpted. She breathed slowly in and out, and her eyes dropped lower to his Adam's apple; she swallowed the lump of jumbled words and sighs that formed in her throat as she watched _him_ swallow – the Adam's apple bobbed up and down just so, that she almost reached out to touch it.

_This is definitely criminal behavior,_ she thought scornfully at herself, still marveling at his throat. Licking her lips, Spencer allowed her eyes to plunge deeper, towards the hollow of his throat, where it met the dip in his clavicle and disappeared under his shirt.

Today he was wearing a berry-purple dress shirt that clung to certain places, flattering his arms, shoulders, and chest. He'd taken off his tie and put it around his neck, and he'd also unbuttoned the first two buttons, letting his collar fall back a little ways to reveal that blessed throat.

"I'm in trouble," she murmured. _I'm definitely in trouble._ Wren's head turned towards her and she realized she'd said it _out loud—_

"Trouble?" he repeated curiously, with a hint of concern. "Why trouble? What happened? Are you alright?" Her hands rose to shoo the questions away – _no, Wren, not _that_ kind of trouble, stop being so sweet –_ and he turned towards her, grasping her hands in his. His hands weren't extremely large, but they were man-size, bigger than hers, and Spencer felt strangely small. _Stop it stop it stop it._ It was almost too much to bear.

She found herself laughing nervously. "Oh, I uh, I'm in trouble with my _parents!"_ She took his confused face as a sign to continue. Grabbing at things on the spot, she stammered, "I'mpast curfew."

"Spencer, it's midnight," Wren told her. His eyebrows raised –_ stop it, seriously – _and she remembered that he _knew_ her, had lived with her for just a short while, but long enough for him to learn that her curfew went until 3:30AM. _Why do I always lie?_ she wondered as his gaze dropped to their hands for a moment.

His eyes returned to hers, earnest and dark brown and green, and he held her hands closer to his chest, drawing her towards him just a fraction more. (It was bad enough that they were already sitting so close together.) "Spencer," he began, staring so hard at her that she was afraid to blink. "If you're in trouble, you can tell me. I'll help you," he added, his eyes pleading with her as he cupped her hands in his.

"No, no no no, it's nothing like that," Spencer said. "I was just, uh, confused about the time. I'm sorry." She winced at how pathetic she sounded -_ Aren't I supposed to be smarter than this? –_ but Wren seemed to buy it. Deciding that he needed a little more convincing, Spencer went on, "I fell asleep, I think. I was worried. Sorry."

He tilted his head, staring at her as if she were a puzzle. Brow furrowing in thought, Wren said, "If I'm keeping you from something, you can tell me. If you want to leave, I won't force you to stay. I enjoy your company, but you're here of your own accord, and you can leave that way. You can always come or go, Spencer."

"That's not it," Spencer replied a little too quickly for him to understand her. His face formed a question and she amended, "Uh, I don't want to leave just yet."

This was all too awkward. Here she was, having entered his home without his awareness or permission, sitting on his couch and telling him she'd like to stay a little longer, even though she didn't really have an invitation. She feared she was impinging on his private time, but still – she couldn't bring herself to stand up.

And the worst part was that with everything he said, she felt her heart thud just a little faster. He was too good to her – too good _for_ her. Despite the fact that he'd kissed her while he was engaged to her _sister,_ Spencer knew that she'd done things a lot worse.

She also knew that he didn't regret kissing her. Not the first time, not the second time…

"I enjoy your company too," she said quietly, deflating. Her shoulders sagged and she turned away from him, away from the intensity of his staring at her. He always seemed so captivated when he stared at her, like she was some wondrous being – _but I'm just _Spencer._ Nothing super-special there._ In her peripheral vision, she saw him smile slightly at the compliment. She had to dig her nails into the heel of her hand to stop herself from smiling, too.

They were silent for a while, and when Spencer calmed herself, she found it peaceful rather than awkward. She couldn't hear her heart beating anymore, and that was satisfactory. Both wide awake and exhausted, she wanted to close her eyes but couldn't; she was too busy watching Wren.

His voice was gentle and lovely as he spoke, and his it filled her up like caramel syrup. "Did you have a nice night, Spencer?" She could tell that, even in the dim lighting, Wren had noticed that she was dressed for a party. Her eyes floated towards her shoes at the door.

"I don't know," she replied, her mind going far away. "Nothing awful happened, so I guess I should be pleased with it." Spencer closed and opened her eyes slowly, giving into the exhaustion just a little bit. It seemed to fade as she thought more about Wren, and having to return home soon.

"But you're not." She turned to look at him and his face was beautiful, the left half blue in the moonlight and the right half yellowish-bronze from the light in his foyer. One dark eyebrow was raised; he stared at her with a question on his face: _Why?_

Sighing, Spencer shrugged. "I don't know why," she answered, and her voice was so quiet that it was barely audible. Still, Wren understood her, and she didn't say anything – didn't _have_ to say anything – as he shifted closer to her, putting an arm around her shoulders and gently pulling her towards him. The half-hug wasn't weird-feeling like most; Spencer leaned her head against his shoulder and let her eyes fall closed again. "I guess some nights just aren't fun."

Wren's chest rumbled slightly as he vocalized his agreement. "I know what you mean," he said.

"Wren?" she asked, lifting her head to look him in the eyes. Their faces were inches apart, but not like before; she wasn't nervous or shy, now. "How was work?"

The lower half of his face broke into a smile, and he looked down at her and said, "Not bad. It's a taxing career, but knowing that I've helped someone when I come home makes up for it."

She tilted her head to the side, as if trying to figure him out. "You're so _good,_ Wren. You're generous, and kind, and I just can't…I don't understand _how_ you can be that way. I want to be like you."

His hand on her right shoulder rubbed up and down her arm; she was warmer now that she was inside, but the friction between his hand and her blazer sleeve felt good. Leaning backwards a little, Wren said, "I've done bad things, Spencer. You know that. There's a lot to make up for."

"I've done worse," she reciprocated, voice low with a mixture of shame and anger at herself. "And I try so hard to make up for it, to fix the things I've done, but _every time,_ things just get more out of hand. But I can't stop trying to repair everything, every_one, _because I always hope that maybe something will turn out."

"Some things aren't your fault." His hand moved to stroke her hair, and to her amazement, it calmed her. Pulling her back into his embrace, he said, "Sometimes if you keep trying to fix something that can't be fixed, it only makes matters worse. But I suppose it's better to at least put in an effort…"

Spencer gave a low chuckle. Moving her head towards the middle of his chest, she could hear his heart beating. It was beating louder than her own, and in that moment she realized that he was just as antsy about their position as she was. Licking her lips, she began to say something, but so did he, so she let her words go unspoken.

"Sometimes I dream about you," he murmured against her hair; his breath tickled her scalp. "It's nothing intense or dramatic. It's just you sitting across from me, maybe at a small café or a coffee shop, and you're just smiling. I don't often see you smile. So the nights where I see you smiling, even if it's just my imagination…those are good nights."

"And when you wake up in the morning?" she asked before she could stop herself. His heart thrummed a little faster, but he was comfortable, and somehow that relaxed her. Staring at his bookshelves, she pictured him when he'd first moved into this apartment; after he'd left Melissa. She smiled a little at the thought of him alphabetically organizing every book right out of the boxes.

He shifted underneath her, tucking her head under his chin. "When I wake up in the morning," he repeated, "I'm alone." A small sigh escaped his lips, and she felt his throat work against her ear. Spencer could feel his Adam's apple, and she turned to rest her forehead against the area in between his left shoulder and his neck.

Murmuring into his chest, she said, "You're in love with me."

"I know," he replied, lifting a hand to hold the back of her neck. She closed her eyes at the feel of his fingers, gently rubbing up and down her nape, releasing the tension from her neck and shoulder muscles. Spencer drew in a breath as he continued, "But it's not like you don't feel anything for me, is it?"

There was a brief pause. "I do," Spencer confirmed. _Of course I do._

He moved and she moved, all at once, and their lips met before they could say anything else. His hands found her waist and her hair, and hers clasped his jaw so that he wouldn't leave too soon. Spencer's heart was pounding frantically, and she fought the desire to leap on him and straddle him as he flicked her top lip with his tongue. Hers responded and they engaged in the classing tongue-war, until she won over him.

Grazing her lower lip with his teeth, Wren let out a groan and detached her hands from around his neck, where her fingers had been gripping the hair at his nape. Leaning back, he looked at her with wild eyes and ruffled hair. "Spencer," he breathed raggedly.

"What?" she asked, wondering what he'd stopped her for. She just wanted to touch him, wanted to feel his skin against hers, but he held her hands in his. Lacing their fingers together, she looked up at him patiently.

After a moment of exasperatedly trying to say something, his face told her that he was at a loss for words, and not another second passed before their lips met again, and this time she gripped his tie, still draped around his neck like a scarf, and used it as leverage to keep him against her. His hands roamed around her hair and back, coming to her waist, then her hips, and squeezing as he tried to bring her closer.

Responding to his call, Spencer scrambled onto his lap, but she was as graceful and balanced as a gazelle. Her weight wasn't even a burden to Wren as she straddled him; their hands caught in each other's hair again and this time, _she_ bit _his_ lip. Feeling him smile against her mouth, Spencer chuckled.

Fingers moving to the buttons on his shirt, she fumbled and giggled again. "Spencer," he warned. "You've been at a party and I'm sure you've had something to drink…"

"Shut _up,"_ she interrupted, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. "Let it be known that my judgment is clear. I only had _one_ drink. And it was just a beer."

"Underage drinking…" he began in a chastising tone, then chuckled as she glared at him. Moving his hands up to help her undo his shirt, he said, "Unzip your dress."

Spencer kissed down his neck and the middle of his chest, following the trail of skin that the unbuttoning of his shirt left exposed. She reached around and pinched the zipper on her dress, and slid it slowly down, pausing to take off the cute belt that she'd accessorized with.

Soon, Wren's shirt was thrown aside, and Spencer's dress on top of it. Wren's eyes widened as he took in the sight of Spencer in her underthings; her bra was lacy and dark grey, like gunmetal, with gold thread lining. His fingers traced it slowly as he marveled – he was afraid he was taking too long, ogling her, but his eyes still trailed slowly downward. Spencer was thin but not skinny, her stomach toned from sports and working out. If it was possible to have a pretty belly button, Spencer had it. Her underwear was a simple bikini, lace and gunmetal grey like her bra, but with a cute little bow. Wren broke into a goofy grin and looked back at her face, and saw that she was smirking at him.

Running her hands over his bare chest, she said, "I once had a dream about you, like this."

"Half-naked?"

She nodded, dark curls bobbing up and down. "You were still a doctor but I was a sexy nurse." Blushing a little, she smiled at him, like she had a secret. She probably did; it was _Spencer,_ she probably had thousands of secrets. But Wren didn't care.

Feeling a rise in his pants, he said, "I can't imagine any nurse being as beautiful as you."

Giving him another kiss, she replied, "Then maybe I should dress up and visit you at work. I think all the other nurses would be jealous…like…what's her name? The blonde."

His eyes surveyed her body again, and he licked his lips. "I-I don't even remember. To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to her." Hands finding her hips, he went on, "I've once had a dream about you, too. I just told you that, but I may have, uh, fibbed about the intense dreams being nonexistent."

"Oh?" she murmured, leaning forward to nibble from his jawline down to his neck. "Tell me more."

Wren turned his head suddenly, so that his lips met hers in a needy manner; she was surprised but returned the kiss. "Well," he began, "It's along the same lines of the sexy nurse thing, except you're a patient and I'm the only person available to look after you."

Hands trailing down to his belt buckle, Spencer's fingers slowly worked until she was able to slide it out of his belt loops. "We'll need to play dress-up next time, then." Leaning back, she gave him a wry grin.

"Next time?" he repeated, suddenly feeling a rush of tinglies from his heart to his stomach. It wasn't nausea; it felt too good. "We can have a next time?"

"Of course," she replied. "What, did you think I wanted a one-night—"

He cut her off with another kiss, raising his hands so that they came around the back of her head and held her to him. She moaned longingly into his mouth and he obliged, lifting her as he got to his feet. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist and she was surprised again, but this time by his strength as he made way for the bedroom.

And then, suddenly, she was being laid back on his bed, which was pretty comfy but also firm. The sheets were a deep amber color, and the comforter must've been dark purple or black. Wren was on top of her, between her legs and kissing her without pause. Her back arched up so that her chest and stomach could greet his; he responded by shucking off his pants.

Spencer grinned at the sight of him in his boxers, and she let her hands go straight for them. He said something unintelligible in a husky voice, and unclasped her bra. She sighed as she felt his hands along her bare chest, and then his lips.

* * *

In the morning she was a teeny bit sore, because they'd been passionate and it'd been a while since Toby. But that didn't keep Spencer from waking him up by rolling onto him, kissing him, and then experiencing the same quenching of her cravings again. She felt his smile as his fingers traced the curves of her bare hips, and sighed in satisfaction as he rolled them over so that he was on top.

"Spencer," he greeted, his teeth at her ear. She giggled. "Wren," she replied demurely, batting her eyelashes when he looked at her. Gruffly, he said, "I have work today." She moaned in protest, raising an arm to shield her eyes in mock agony, as she whined, "But it's Saturday."

Finding herself flipped up and into his lap, Spencer allowed Wren to kiss her before pouting. "Can I come?" she asked, watching his face light up in amusement at her humor.

His hand moved to one of her breasts, toying with it as he said, "No one can stop you, but it'd probably be very uninteresting. I'd hardly get to see you."

"True," she murmured, leaning forward to brush a kiss against the beautiful, golden skin of his shoulder. Resting her head there for a moment, Spencer shut her eyes and wished that they could go back to sleep. She was surprised at how relaxed she felt; it was as if being near Wren alone worked wonders. _And he has the hands of a masseuse…_

Wren put his arms around her, leaning his head against hers. "We can have breakfast and then I'll need to get going," he sighed, and she felt his lips moving against her hair. "When can I see you again? Tonight? My shift lasts ten hours."

"The specific time depends on how you want to see me," Spencer replied, smirking. "Do you mind if I take a shower, though? I don't want to arrive home smelling like my sister's ex-fiance. My parents…"

"Why not? I think it'd be dangerous and sexy." He joked, taking no offense. "We can shower, too, if you like."

"Oh, I like."

His grin widened.

In the shower, there was more steam than water, so to speak, but in the end, every inch of their bodies got scrubbed. Spencer stepped out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, and headed out to the kitchen, picking up her clothes along the way. She was surprised to see how much was thrown around. Donning her panties and bra, she found her dress and zipped it up, shaking out her almost-dry hair and then ruffling it with her fingers.

Wren followed her a little while later, dressed in his adorable scrubs and grinning. His teeth were pearly white; he'd let Spencer use a spare toothbrush. She smiled back at him and beckoned him over, saying, "I made coffee. You get to make eggs."

"I prefer scrambled," he replied. "What about you?"

"Scrambled," she agreed, nodding. Leaning against the counter, Wren gathered the various utensils needed to complete his task. In no time, they were sitting at his small table. "I'm sorry if this seems weird," Spencer said at one point. "I just kind of snuck in here and then stayed over. I'm sorry if you had other plans."

"I had no other plans," he said, shaking his head. "And if I had, I would've dropped them for you, regardless."

"I love you," she said suddenly, and her cheeks colored pink, but she didn't take back those words. She meant them, odd as it was.

He met her eyes from across the table, looking up from some papers that probably had to do with his job, and said with a grin, "And I love you."

Chewing her eggs, she thought about everything that had happened between them…Melissa and Toby and everything else that had been in their way had been cast aside, and now they were the only two left standing. It was pleasing. She remembered his kind, awkward, first-meeting words, and his wise, broken-up-with-and-kicked-out words, and then his drunken, love-confession words. No matter what she was going through or who she was fighting with, Wren seemed to be the only person that never turned his back on her.

He spoke her language, she decided. And, looking at him across two plates and an empty flower vase that he probably hadn't picked out, she realized that she was really, really going to miss him over the next ten hours.

"Wren?" she began in a small voice, feeling a sudden rush. Fidgeting with her belt, she watched his face as his eyes rose to meet hers.

"Hmm?" was his response, around a huge bite of toast.

She was filled with a different kind of warmth than the previous night, and it made her giddy. "Thank you."

He noticed that her eyes were wide and her face was honest, and he smirked at her in amusement, nudging her foot under the table with his own. "You're in love with me," he told her.

She swallowed again. "I know."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I may or may not write a sequel to this; this wasn't exactly supposed to be sexy but it turned out that way (I don't mind, do you?) and I'm working on another, bigger PLL fic that may or may not get published, so yeah. I hope you liked this, please review! :)


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